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    1. Breo 7 yrs ago
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Student, RPer, videogame and anime fan, movie guy. Also memist, but that's par the course. In other words, your garden-variety nerd. Not much else to say, really.

Yeah, I'm a rather bogstandard individual, sue me.

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Hm, I'd be interested in this.

Is one of the Caster slots still available? I believe I have some fun stuf in mind.



That should do it.

@ADamnFiddle
Janika Edelfelt


Nothing.

It was an oddly common occurrence, although, as she thought on it, not an altogether unexpected one. The divide between their sides and their conditions of victory should have been clear from the start, so it would make sense that they would abandon any place that was not essential. In the end, they had come to plunder this land while the enemy was out to defend their treasure, so one should think it reasonable to concentrate wholly on that which would aid in such efforts.

Apparently the problem was simply that they had been walking blindly around the city and all their guesses had been phenomenally wrong, in the end. The Tohsaka Manor would have been a far reach considering the family’s history—or lack of thereof, more accurately—whereas the Matous had been a shot in the dark they had missed, although at least they had gained some interesting information and the conversation had not been unpleasant.

But if anything, she would have guessed they would have rallied here. It was a reasonable expectation, considering just who the owners of this little slice of land were, and their name alone instilled more caution in her than all the others put together—for a reason, of course.
Of this entire War, they were indeed what could be said to be the ‘known factor’. So it was interesting to see they also had not rallied here, though maybe they had also thought it much too obvious. Ah, well.

It was with those thoughts in mind that she paid heed to Saber’s own words as they made their way through the area, the trees providing shade from the morning rays of sunlight. Stopping for a second, she placed her hand on one of them—feeling the rough bark under her fingers as she thought about the proposal, and discreetly using the chance to rest her feet, because heels were not made for this sort of terrain.

“. . .Together, perhaps,” She decided, in the end. “But nonetheless, I recommend caution, Saber. If it comes down to it, I trust your capabilities, but I also trust those doll-makers to be a crafty lot. With any luck, we will get some interesting insights out of this journey and more. . .in fact, I think I might already have some.”

Not the Tohsaka Manor, not the Matou Manor and if this place wasn’t it, either. . .well, at least they had managed to narrow the list down to one obvious spot. It wasn’t the best way to go about it, but it would be useful, at least.

“Now then, let’s go. . .is what I want to say, but really, they could have stood to make a clearer path for guests, couldn’t they?” Sighing, she withdrew her hand and started walking again. At the very least, she seemed to be in a talkative mood—perhaps she was just a morning person, perhaps a night's sleep was what she needed after the previous day.

Maybe both.

@Yukitamas
Janika Edelfelt, Matou Manor.


"I see, I see." Her voice rang out through the darkness. And she did, really.

It would have been something disgusting had the magus, Matou Zouken, decided to simply give away this place without fighting if it was his family's ground. Disgraceful, even. In that regard, both Saber and she were of the same mind, though perhaps not for the same reasons.

Protecting what is yours, not allowing others to take what is yours. They sounded similar on the surface, but differed at their core. Just as those of higher station were obligated to aid those of lower ability, so too were they obligated to punish those who had the gall of attempting to take something from them. It was not a desire to protect, but rather, a will to keep. To her, the idea of standing idly by while others would attempt to ransack one's home spoke of nothing but weakness, in terms of character if not in capacity.

So then, it was fortunate their host could see eye to eye with them on that matter.

"Ah, yes, the Tohsaka's housing. . .no, we have not come to do anything of the sort," Keeping her placid smile in place, she tried to reassure the magus that hostilities would not be required in this case. While she would not have wasted breath on Matou Youzai, she had been genuine when speaking of her lack of personal quarrel with this individual, attacking first when the host had been rather gracious considering the circumstances would be simply barbaric. "Truth be told, I was unaware he'd do something like that to their grounds, as well. . .but I suppose one can also understand the need to deny enemies of any possible advantage, and that includes ease of access and hold over a fallen leyline. . .even if I think that his decision was more guided by his own emotions than proper, thought-out planning." Clicking her tongue, voice containing just a touch of disapproval concerning the actions of her ally, there was nonetheless acceptance.

What was done, was done. No sense in crying so much over spilled milk, and even if Emmerich had acted rashly, at least it could prove beneficial to them still.

"We only came here to ah. . .scout out the area. Had we found nothing, we would have left easily enough, and as you say, this house does not particularly call to us as a strategic position, so there was no need to do anything. I am not petty enough to destroy a family's home when my quarrel is so specific as this one and it would gain me nothing."

Pausing, she considered her next words. Certainly, they had not been prepared for this, but at the same time, it was not bad. At the very least, considering the earlier rushes of the day, a calm talk under a proper roof, even if she could not actually see her partner in the conversation, was not a change of pace she particularly minded. It certainly helped that the man seemed rather reasonable in how he handled things. . .although his confidence, or at least lack of fear about the prospect of facing Servants, was odd in its own way. Did he trust the Matou Master and his own Servant to come if they poised to threaten him? Did he perhaps possess confidence in his ability to such a seemingly suicidal extent?

Or was it maybe just bravado to make them reconsider?

Ah, well, not like putting on airs in front of guests was something she was unfamiliar with, herself, and she trusted both Saber and Archer, although perhaps she should make the midnight chat shorter than she had anticipated. The worst case scenario that lurked in her mind was that of the Japanese faction taking them by surprise here and now -- although she wondered if Youzai could make others except his own Servant move for what was an unremarkable position outside of being his own home. Nonetheless, she would have to be cautious.

They would have to take their leave soon. But for the moment. . .

"I see, however, that you are familiar with my name and what it carries. A pleasant surprise. . .although I cannot recall either my mother or anyone else in my family mentioning yours. Of all the families involved in the Ritual, only the Einzbern rang a bell," The Tohsaka had been a mere footnote, the Matou less than that. How odd, if he had met Edelfelts as he said. . .though perhaps he simply had not made enough of an impression. "Judging by the way you speak of it, however. . .I take it you are rather acquainted with the system? Although perhaps I should not be surprised about that being the case for members of any of the families. After all, you must take pride in it."
Janika Edelfelt, Matou Mansion


She had not ripped into Emmerich the moment he had come back.

She liked to think that that showed her restraint as it was, really. The man had already seemed so stricken by the death of his own Servant that there was little a verbal lashing would do at this point. He understood the humiliation and the grave situation it had left them in, all to come back with so little, and she really could not fathom why he had not just ordered Rider back with that Command Seal he had used, or why that fool of a Servant had not urged something similar, but in the end, she guessed that was just how they were.
So now, with both Emmerich and Brauer indisposed and her sister working on her own little projects, it fell to her to scout this manor. She dearly hoped it would go over better than the last one, but one never knew what the representative or whatever Servant he had summoned hid under their sleeve, although she liked to think her little desire was not a particularly high bar to clear.

The house itself was Western in style, but what caught her attention the most was the heavy atmosphere around it, as though the moment she stepped within, it would be like stepping in a different world. A small part of her, a part she tended to ignore, thought that perhaps coming here was not such a bright idea.

She merely tempered the trepidation with trust in Saber and Archer to pull through. So it was that she strode cautiously, but decisively, into the old manor and the darkness that laid within.

There is probably a saying about lambs that walk willingly into the slaughterhouse.

The oppressive atmosphere redoubled in potency now that she was within alongside Saber, almost like a physical thing, a weight bearing down on her shoulders. Her eyes darted around, looking for something she could not see, trying futilely to pierce through the darkness.
As the voice spoke, Saber's figure was one of the few things that gave her a measure of comfort at this point in time.

Striding forward, however, she had her own part to act out, and refusal of it was never an option to begin with. Moving to stand just a step in front and to the left of Saber, her eyes narrowed yet again, unable to perceive anything.

In the end, she could only weigh in the words and answer as well she could.
"Excuse our intrusion, though, to be frank," She started to speak, keeping her voice level and her cane resting peacefully at her side. "I did not quite expect someone not Matou Youzai to greet us, if there was to even be a greeting to begin with, no. I would have thought most, if not all the other family members, whoever they might be, would have already left until the war was over. . .not a particularly unwise move, I would say."

She spoke with a firmness that perhaps surprised even herself in spite of the shivers that ran down her back as whoever it was that had decided to play host spoke. She was an Edelfelt, and she could not show anything but this to any outsider.

"I do not fault you for the lack of any display, however. I admit, this was a rather rushed meeting," Keeping her ears peeled for even an inkling of any other surprises, she continued her speech unimpeded, surprisingly enough. "It would be terribly gauche of me to ask for tea in this situation, I believe. Speaking of, my manners must have been failing me. . .Janika Edelfelt, at your service. Would the host do us the honors of a proper introduction? It is only polite."

He smile, sweet like honey, was as much of a façade as any airs she put on, but the belief in proper manners was indeed genuine. After all, for all that had happened, she had still been raised an aristocrat. At the very least, this much was the norm.

"Worry not for entertainment however. If I am to be honest, we did not come here seeking any particular trouble as our primary goal. Of course, had Matou Youzai been here, we would have attempted to kill him and would have expected the same in turn, but I cannot say you, whoever you might be, gracious host, figured in any plans. With you, I have no particular quarrel," She paused for a second, her smile stretching just a touch. "Though I can understand the principle of defending one's home, so if we must do this, I would not begrudge you for it. . .although it would be a shame. I do enjoy conversations more."
I mean, technically dying super early is a trait of the S U M A N A I subset.

So I guess I was already prepared for it and knew what to do.
To be honest, I'm pretty happy with this.

Like, it was pretty in character for Sigurd to be an idiot of this sort and I managed to touch up on all the points. Tad shorter than I'd have liked for a run, but gratifying enough.

Though I hope the death scene was not too cheesy. Like, I had to make it cheesy for him, but I hope it wasn't excessive.
Sigurd, Outside the Tohsaka Manor.


His companion manifested. His soul bared, his sword unleashed. Not enough, it seemed.

Ah, was this truly his death? It was not a bad one, not at all. He had enjoyed the time spent, he had felt his blood boil in a good fight, and now his eyelids closed as though this was but a distant dream. Yet, there was still more to do, there were things he would like to say.

He was not a hero that had a tale of surviving when he should have died. He was simply hard to kill properly in the first place, so the only thing he could do was hold to his consciousness and try to hold to those last threads he possessed, grasping them and not letting go.

He would not be so unsightly as to attempt to hold out and live when he should be dead—he would dislike it if an enemy did that instead of accepting the outcome with grace, so it would be quite hypocritical to attempt anything of the sort. Just some time for goodbyes was not wrong, however—at least, he did not think about it that way.

“Ah, man,” The words that came out of his mouth were slurred and he was making an effort to make them heard over the blood building up in his own throat. He spat to the side. “So this is how it ends, huh? Short run, I guess, but can’t say I regret it,” His tone was the usual upbeat, not losing an ounce of brightness in spite of the circumstances—though perhaps more pained than usual. “Though I guess it’s pretty selfish of me to say that. Real sorry, Master, seems like you didn’t summon as reliable a Servant as you thought, huh?”

Peals of laughter intermixed with coughs for an instant, as though he found peace in his own death. His horse approached, steps almost sedate, and the mare nuzzled her head against Sigurd, who ran a hand through her coat before she vanished in motes of light. “Sorry you only got to come to see this, really. But you’re still as wonderful as ever. Maybe next time.”

His gaze shifted to stare at his enemy.

“Yo,” He smiled. “Hey, don’t you think stealing a heart in the first date’s moving too fast? Sorry if that was the aim, though—afraid I already got someone,” He attempted a cheeky smile, but it came out mixed with a grimace. “Mind if I ask you not to go after my Master? I figure it’s about the only thing I can do right now, and it’s sort of my duty still.” Wounds are there, of course, but his skin also showed cracks—like shattering glass.

Gaze upturned towards the heavens, his smile still in place, he seemed to ponder his circumstances for a bit. “I feel bad for leaving them hanging, but I suppose it was a fated outcome. Still, sucks I didn’t even get to ascertain the identity of Lancer or Caster. . .hey if either is a woman with long white hair. . .no, never mind, it’s something I would have to do myself, anyway, it would be meaningless otherwise.” He shifted, attempting to find a more comfortable posture before recognizing that his thorax being caved in is probably not conductive to such. Thus, he resigned himself to spend his last moments like so.

“My name?” Sounding confused for an instant, realization dawned on his features. “Ah, that’s right, yeah, I didn’t actually introduce myself, did I? Well, no harm in it now, I guess. It’s Sigurd, son of Sigmund, Slayer of Fafnir. . .you know, the usual titles. Just Sigurd should do just fine,” Another bout of pained chuckles. “Normally it’d spell bad news to be so open about it, but I doubt it matters at this point. Thanks for a fun fight, at least, Mister Burial Agent.”

And it had been fun, to him at least. The man was probably a terrible matchup for him, but Sigurd was just the sort of idiot to not care, and it was certainly a better death than the original one. The only thing he regretted was that this chapter was so short, but even that feeling would vanish soon—one had to accept things as they came, and he shouldn’t let himself be embittered by something so petty. He had had his run, so it was only fitting.

The world of the present belonged to those who lived in it. Shades of the past like him—like all the Servants summoned in this War—had no say in it, and attempting to think it their own was foolish. In a way, this was certainly poetic—the heroes of today have the duty to surpass the ones of yesterday. . .or something like that. He had never been that good with words to begin with.

“Oh, well,” Resignation seeped into his tone, his lower body started to vanish. “Guess this is it. It was nice seeing the present is not as terribly boring as I thought it was, so thank you for that.”

Perhaps it was mind-boggling for someone to address his killer in such a way, but the fact of the matter remained that Sigurd had acknowledged his loss and he had never seen why being friendly exempted people from trying to kill each other. It was a rather strange notion of this modern world that he, once again, did not quite get. Shame they hadn’t gotten to share drinks.

He raised his hand towards the sky, as though attempting to catch the stars—something that he could never reach, something that he would forever chase. That was the Karma he carried, and this was but a simple intermission in that journey.

“Not this time around, I am afraid,” His smile carried not the jovial undertones of his usual expressions, and his tone had shifted from upbeat to something resembling longing. But there was a tenderness to his voice that could not be denied. “But I guess. . .the advantage is. . .that I can try again, and again, and again forever,” Letting it fall, he grasped the hilt of his sword, but made no further movements, gaze still drawn towards a dream perhaps only he could see.

A simple woman, a beautiful woman, a wonderful woman. It is true that shades of the past like them have no business in the present, but they could certainly have business with each other. His own present was with her, simple as that.

“One day, Brynhildr,” The last words passed through his lips as he breathed his last. “We will meet again, I swear.”

And thus, Sigurd died, though perhaps the haze in his mind conjured a memory of a time long past—of a smile like the sun.

And thus, Sigurd died—with a smile on his face.
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